


Creature Comforts

by wrathwritesthings (leviathan_wrath)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Comfort, Iggy and Prompto are Sweethearts, Multi, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reader-Insert, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 04:19:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leviathan_wrath/pseuds/wrathwritesthings
Summary: When the stress of housing a family member starts to build up, your boyfriend is there to help you unwind.





	1. Ignis

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested on tumblr. The request reads: _I've never requested anything before, so I'm sorry if this is weird or wrong. Could I get Ignis or Prompto comforting their S/O who's had a family member move in with them and it's messing with the S/O's routine and they're putting up with it to not cause problems but it's stressing them out? gender neutral and your usual reader personality is perfect. Thank you and I love you <3_
> 
> First part is Ignis and the second is Prompto. I figured why not do both? Apologies for the language. I thought this might be a more cathartic thing. I hope y'all like this.
> 
>  **Warnings:** Strong Language, Mild Angst, Fluff, OOC Galore, Intense Tense Flippage, AU, Mild Sexual Refs

**Ignis**

“I’m miserable.”

“So I’ve heard.”

You flop down on his couch, facedown and exhausted. The bespectacled brunet isn’t too bothered by you shuffling by him, only giving him a grunt for a greeting, not really seeing him as he greeted you at his door. He’s waiting for you to really look at him, though. Ignis picks up your legs and sits down, placing your legs on his lap. Fingers stroke your calves through your pant-legs comfortingly.

He’s been patient with your phone calls and texts. He’s been the level-head you strive to have. But that patience of his is wearing thin. Not with you, of course, but with your relative. Which is why he invited you over so suddenly. There’s a surprise for you if you’d only pay attention. And with that surprise comes some advice that he can’t keep to himself.

“At first it was just the big things that bothered me. Like not knocking on my door before entering, our schedules not matching, not contributing to buying groceries, and _rent_. But now?” Voice is muffled. You groan into the camel-colored cushion, accidentally leaving some drool. “The toaster setting is set to annihilate each time I use it. The toilet paper is set wrong. The TV volume is always weird. Iggy…”

Emerald eyes flicker over your poor, sagged form. “What is it, my love?”

“Is it wrong to want to murder someone just for breathing?” Hands push yourself up and you settle on your elbows. Still, you don’t look at him. You feel ashamed despite your humor. Because this is _family_ you’re talking about. You’d agreed to house them and by doing so you feel like you’ve relinquished all right to complain. Because that’s what good people do. Right? Put up and shut up?

But, by the Six, this is _hell_. Certainly no good deed goes unpunished. But they’re up at seemingly all hours and you have to _work_ for a living. You’ve asked politely for them to keep it down and it worked… for like a couple of days. And then the rabble started back up like your words were just a joke- like your _needs_ are just a joke. Now, you even feel like you’re starting to annoy Ignis.

It’s just that you have literally _no other outlet_! What? Are you supposed to grab your relative by the collar and yell at them to shut the hell up? Ask them what the hell their problem is? Demand to know why they can’t act like a decent person and just let you _live_? You go out of your way to make sure you don’t step on their toes. Why do you have to demand that they do the same?

“(y/n),” Iggy calls your name but you refuse to look at him. Just talking right now, in his nice, quiet apartment, you’re on the brink of tears. You’re at your wit’s end and feel so damn stupid and selfish. All it is is a simple adjustment, you reprimand yourself. But Ignis Scientia doesn’t see it that way. He knows exactly where you’re coming from and he knows you’re your own worst critic.

“(y/n),” he calls again, more insistently this time.

A deep, soothing breath is taken and you carefully flip onto your back… and promptly burst out laughing. Seriously? It’s not even a big thing. But Iggy is wearing the gag gift you bought him for your anniversary. It’s just an apron with the words “Culinary Badass” emblazoned on it. It’s all black with the words in tacky flames. _So_ not his style.

And then you realize he’s just wearing silky black boxers underneath.

_Kinda_ feeling like an asshole for laughing now…

“S-Sorry! I-” You slap your hand over your mouth, struggling to choke back another giggling fit. Tears prick the corners of your eyes. It’s a combination of lingering frustration with your situation and love for your nerd of a boyfriend. Oh, no. Oh, _no_. You’re about to ruin the moment. Aaaaaaaand the waterworks start and you swear between sobs, “D-Dammit! I didn’t want to cry today!”

“Come here.”

You do so quickly. Getting on your knees and crawling over to him. Deft hands pull you onto his lap, one hand settling on your waist as you straddle him and the other coming up to wipe away your tears until you calm down. Fingers stroke your jaw, trail down your neck. Sympathetic green eyes watch you closely and he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“There comes a point in time when you need to firmly tell someone what behaviors need to stop,” Ignis gently informs you, voice low and modulated. “You’re the one who has opened up your home to them and though they’re family, which I understand, you’ve been more than accommodating. Not everyone’s relative would be so generous to put their entire life on hold to house another individual.”

“Iggy…”

“I apologize if I’m crossing any lines, (y/n). I just don’t like hearing that you’re being taken advantage of. It’s hardly too much to ask them to adjust _with_ your schedule rather than guilt you into rearranging your entire life to suit their needs. You’ve already done enough. Now it’s their turn to reciprocate.”

“Six, I love you,” you sigh, pressing a firm kiss to his lips. Lips move as you murmur against him, “You’re such a polite asshole.”

“Well,” his voice is light, teasing, “this polite asshole made you dinner _and_ dessert. I was wearing this apron for a reason, dearest.”

“And it looks _so_ good on you, too,” you laugh, nipping his bottom lip when he squeezes your waist. He returns your kiss hungrily, pulling you down further so you can feel his growing arousal between your thighs. “Though I love your cooking, Iggy, I’m more interested in what you’re wearing underneath that _lovely_ apron.”


	2. Prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Strong Language, Mild Angst, Fluff, OOC Galore, Intense Tense Flippage, AU, Mild Sexual Refs

**Prompto**

He sits on your bed. It’s one of the rare moments where he can get you alone these days. You’ve just been so busy; life a whirlwind now that your relative has moved in. On the phone, he can hear the tension in your voice. Though he’s tried to arrange a time to meet you, you’ve just been so damn _busy_. So, the usually patient blond just decided to drop by unannounced.

Perfect timing on his part.

What you don’t know is that he came here fully prepared to rip into your relative. Since the moment you began shooting him strained texts, since the moment he heard your weary voice on the phone, he’s been making a list and checking it twice. Call him Krampus, ‘cause that list of grievances of his was made for the purpose of shame and retribution.

Despite the blond’s innocent veneer, despite how sweet and how dorky he is… Prompto Argentum doesn’t mess around. Especially not when you’re being hurt. Though he usually shies away from confrontation and plays diplomat, a strange sort of quality comes out when you’re upset. It’s petty to the extreme and as sharp as a knife.

He’s _fiercely_ protective of you.

Honestly, he wants to be liked by any member of your family. Well, _wanted_ to. ‘Cause he doesn’t care if he’s loved or hated by the one who moved in with you. Prom is someone who has a bit of insecurity with interpersonal relationships- he needs to be liked or he feels uncomfortable. But therein lies the duality of his nature: One wrong move and the offender is dead to him.

It’s something he’ll never tell you because he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings or, Six forbid, estrange you. Because clearly you love your family member or else you wouldn’t house them. But he hasn’t even _met_ them yet and he hates them. Such a strange concept to you, that your blond boyfriend could _hate_ someone. When he tells you, he’ll say he “doesn’t really like” them. It’s code for “hate.”

And that resentment of his? It blew up the second you answered your door and he saw how tired you looked. He’d wanted to take you in his arms and just hold you forever, but you’d been annoyed by the sudden visit in your fatigued state. So, the affection was tabled for the moment. But you won’t escape it for much longer.

“Hey, (y/n)…” Prompto picks at your duvet, eyes lingering on your back as you fold laundry at the foot of the bed. Even when you’re supposed to be relaxing, you’re doing housework. His irritation amps up by a million. Prom envisions himself taking that basket of laundry and throwing it across your relative’s room.

“Mmhm?” You hum, barely awake, barely hanging on by a thread. It’s a struggle to be patient. Why’d he have to stop by _now_? You’ve been trying to keep up appearances but it’s so damn hard. It’s been extra work to not worry the kind-hearted blond with all of _your_ worries. And you hate that you’ve vented to him. You think it lowers yourself in his eyes.

Because you feel selfish and foolish. You didn’t _have_ to agree to let your relative live with you. But what other choice did you have? Say no? What asshole tells family in need to take a hike? To take a long walk off a short pier? You couldn’t live with yourself if you had… but you can hardly live _now_. It’s all just building up.

“I need to tell you something,” Prompto suddenly announces, blue eyes staring intently at your back. You’re unaware of his internal struggle. He just wants you to be okay. He just wants you to be happy. He just wants you to know something…

“Mmhm?”

He sighs at that dismissive hum. “Can you look at me? It’s serious. You really need to hear this.”

“Okay.” You pause at his stern tone. Dropping the t-shirt you’d been attempting to fold back into the basket, you scoot up the bed and turn to face him. His expression is serious, pale brow furrowed and blue eyes intense. “You have my undivided attention.”

Prom waits a moment, picks at the duvet a bit more. Freckled cheeks flush as he builds his resolve. “This is really important for you to understand. Okay? So listen closely.”

Now you’re feeling nervous. Oh, Six… “O-Okay…”

He holds your gaze. “It was really generous of you to open up your home. You’re a really wonderful person who doesn’t deserve to go through such a hard time and I want you to know that I’m here for you. Vent. Pretend I’m your relative and yell at me if you need to. What you’re feeling? All that frustration? It doesn’t make you a bad person. I want you to know that I lo- (y/n)?”

Wiping away tears, you laugh, “Why are you so damn sweet?”

He laughs nervously, thinking back to how he was so damn ready to tear your relative a new one. “Ah… I’m not _that_ sweet.”

“I think you are,” you reply quietly, scooting closer to him and holding his face between your hands. He blushes prettily, pale lashes flickering over those freckled cheeks and cornflower blue eyes look away with a sudden bout of bashfulness at your brazen affection. You grin at how adorable he is, pressing your lips to his. “I love you so, so much. Thank you, Prompto.”

His kiss is soft and tender but quickly turns scorching hot at your insistence. Fingers knot in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat to him. He _loves_ love bites. In a flash you’re flipped over onto your back with a startled laugh and Prompto eagerly gets to work on relieving you of weeks of pent-up frustration.


End file.
